


Its Eyes Are for the Stars

by AcrobatElle



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-31
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-05-17 11:40:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5867905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AcrobatElle/pseuds/AcrobatElle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emma finds Killian in the Underworld. His reaction isn't what she expected. Speculation but no spoilers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Its Eyes Are for the Stars

They’ve combed the entire town twice over, splitting up and meeting and splitting up yet again. The more logical places -- the docks, her (their) home, Granny’s, the library -- are empty, dark and smelling faintly of ash.

The _Jolly_ is a ghost ship, its sails blackened and the once-pristine deck stained with soot, the paint chipping and the wood rotting. It’s the third time she’s searched it but the first time she’s allowed her heart to break at the sight of it, pausing to look around the deck as she climbs out of the dilapidated captain’s quarters.

Everything here is wrong, broken in some way. _And if Killian_ \--

She pushes the thought away before she can finish it, steeling herself as she leaves the ship to meet with her family once more, to come up with a new plan of attack. Emma isn’t sure how long they’ve been here; there’s no day or night, no need to sleep, and time.... it feels wrong, too, just like everything else, elastic and nebulous and useless.

She’s hardly left the docks, her hands shoved into her pockets and her shoulders hunched against the chill in the air when he’s suddenly _there_ , walking down the opposite side of the street in her direction.

He doesn’t see her at first, his head down, and Emma can’t even _move_ , her feet rooted to the sidewalk as the air leaves her lungs. He’s back in his leather jacket and his old jewelry and he’s upright and _walking_ and there’s no gash on his neck, and he looks exactly like he did when she told him she loved him for the first time and --

“Killian.” It’s barely audible, croaked-out, and Emma remembers to breathe. “ _Killian_.” It’s broken but louder now, and he stops and lifts his head in her direction.

For the longest moment he doesn’t move, just stares at her from across the street. Confusion crosses his features as he stops his walk and blinks once, twice. For a horrifying second Emma thinks he may not remember her, and then --

\-- his face _crumbles_.

She’s never seen anything like it, his expression heartbroken and so, so lost. Not when he told her about Liam, not when he spoke of Milah, the utter despair on his features breaking her heart all over again as she feels her feet moving, shoving her across the street to meet him.

And she can’t dive into his arms, not when he looks like this, sadder and more desperate than she’s ever seen him. She stops a few feet from him and she sees him tense, waiting to jump back at the slightest provocation.

“Emma?” His voice is so small, disappearing against the empty street.

“Yeah.” Her lips want to turn upward but she can’t find the will to smile, not when he looks like his world is ending. “It’s me.”

His face doesn’t change at her confirmation and the hopeful part of her, the one wishing he’d swallow her in his arms, dies at his expression.

“How long has it been?” he asks.

Her breath catches at his question. The last few days -- she thinks it’s only been a few days, at least -- felt like weeks, and if he.... “How long has it been for you?”

He shakes his head, resigned and sadder than she’s ever seen him. “I can’t even tell anymore. Too long.”

Her chest tightens, her lungs feeling too small, and she takes another step towards him but he backs away, not in anger but fear.

 _Fear_. It’s such a strange emotion, coming from him. She thought she’d heard it before, through a scratchy radio signal and an ice wall, but nothing like this, not even when he was dying.

“It was only a day for me before I got here,” she says, her words soft and careful.

His face only falls farther at that, and she doesn’t even get the chance to grab his hand, to lace their fingers together and press her forehead against his before he speaks again, his voice sad and resigned.

“How did you die, Emma?”

Oh god. _Oh god_.

She’s on him in an instant, grabbing his face and invading his space, pulling him in tightly. His skin is cool under her palms, but it still feels the same as it always did, his eyes drifting shut at her touch. “No. No no _no_. I’m not dead, Killian.”

His breath escapes on a harsh note, a relieved near-sob as his eyes fly open, searching hers. “You… you look the same. Everyone here looks as they did when they died. I thought -- “

“No, god, _no_.” She shakes her head and she can’t stop the tears, not when he’s _here_ , softness and stubble under her fingertips, not when his hand finds her hip and grips tightly, pulling her flush against him.

She can feel his skin warming under her hands and she watches as his face changes, the despair melting away only to be replaced with relief, fondness and love. “So I didn’t fail you.” His words and his hand against her are still trembling.

She shakes her head, her smile watery but genuine. “You couldn’t even if you tried.”

His lips are feather-light against her forehead but still warm her to the bone. “Then what are you doing here, love?”

“I came here to get you back. You -- “ Emma swallows hard. “It’s complicated. Can we just, for a minute…?”

He nods, his breath tickling her skin, and suddenly his arms are wrapped around her, her face buried in the hollow of his throat and she wants to sob because it feels so damned good to have him pressed against her like this.

“I missed you so much,” he whispers into her hair, and her heart cracks at his words.

She pulls back just enough to simply look at him, her hands drifting over every feature of his face as she tries to steady her heartbeat. He lets her, his hand absentmindedly combing through her hair, and nothing has ever felt as steadying as his chest pressed against her and his fingers roaming her scalp.

Before they were together -- she can hardly even imagine it, now -- his habit of sustained eye contact unnerved her. Now it’s an anchor, more of a tether than any sword or dagger could ever be. She hardly notices his fingers tracing the shell of her ear and drifting over her jaw, content to just _look_ at him, to see the love in his eyes that she hopes is reflected in her own.

The spell only breaks when he leans in closer, his lips just barely touching hers, and it’s like they’re in that Middlemist field in Camelot all over again, her arms draped over his shoulders as she lets the rest of the world fall away for just one stolen moment.

Of course it can’t last, but she clings to it just a little longer when he breaks away, keeping her eyes shut and her forehead pressed to his.

“We’ve got some things to talk about,” she finally says, and as difficult as it is to open her eyes she’s rewarded with the blue of his own looking back at her and his hand pressing warmth into her side.

“Aye,” he agrees, his hand sliding up to toy with the ring that still hangs around her neck, and despite everything, he smiles. “And I’ve someone I’d very much like you to meet.”


End file.
